Ars Moriendi
by rikkucheerio
Summary: Evil!AU.  Sometimes, you have to get your frustrations out in any way you can.  Please see AN.  Definitely not kidfriendly.


**A/N: Another from the AU series I'm doing. This is a bit more graphic than what I normally write (or even feel comfortable with) but when your muse demands something, you have to oblige him.**

Without any responsibilities to tend to tonight, Bobby lurked in the dark alley, waiting for two girls to walk by on their nightly return from a singles bar. He'd been casually watching them for weeks, their daily routine taking them past the gallery. He'd been sure to find out their routines for the days they didn't go past the gallery and chose to strike on one of those days. Tonight, he was feeling merciless. He wanted them to suffer, to feel their fear deep within themselves. Most of all, he wanted them to **die**.

Two blondes walked past his vantage point, laughing and giggling over boys at the bar. Bobby's lips twisted into a sick smile as he visualized his moves. He waited until the two girls had walked further down the sidewalk before slipping out and following behind them. The anticipation of the hunt had his heart racing, chest pounding. He could almost feel their warm blood on his hands. Tragic, the only thing they did wrong was bleaching their hair. He suppressed a laugh as he followed a little closer, pushing the boundaries of a safe distance. Soon, it would be time to make them bleed. Patience is a virtue.

"Excuse me," he said, coming up behind them, his face a mask of charming features. The goal was to gain their trust, not alarm them. "I saw you both at the bar, but you left before I could offer to buy you drinks. If you don't mind my saying so, you're both very beautiful." He flashed a grin worthy of a SAG award, dripping with charm and confidence.

Both girls looked at each other, blushing, and giggled more. "Well, we have drink mix at home," the shorter one said. Her friend, roommate from the sound of it, ran her tongue over her teeth, smiling up at Bobby. "That way, we can avoid any cheesy pickup lines," she added, smirking.

Bobby stuck out his hand, continuing his charade of pleasantries. Maybe he'd even let things go as far as sex... or close to it. "I'm Vincent. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The shorter girl shook his hand, holding it a little longer than he'd expected her to. "I'm Krista and this is my roommate, Chelsea," she said, gesturing to her companion. Chelsea smiled again, a come hither flicker in her eyes made Bobby bite his lip to keep himself in control. There was no denying they were both gorgeous. About 5'4 and 5'7, both with miles of legs. He groaned inwardly, his body aching, dying to get his hands on them in more than one way. They'd be so much more fun to torture and to make writhe in agony.

The trio walked the couple blocks to the girls' apartment. Krista unlocked the door and gestured for him to go inside. She followed him in, heading for the kitchen, Chelsea bringing up the rear. After closing the door, Chelsea grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, pressing him up against the door. Her hungry lips pressed themselves against his neck, biting furiously; his hips pressed into her belly.

"Who needs drinks?" she asked between kisses, her voice husky. He reached up with one hand, letting his fingers brush lightly over her breast, his other hand slowly going behind him to the door. With a slow, easy slide of his fingers, he flipped the deadbolt on, locking the door, the soft click not registering to the ravenous woman.

Krista came back into the living room, pausing to tilt her head. "Well gee, you waste no time." She set a bottle of tequila on the coffee table and sauntered over to Bobby and Chelsea. "C'mon you guys. Drinks, remember?" She tugged lightly on Chelsea's arm as she pulled away from Bobby. 

Finally, the girls were together within arms reach. He could easily overpower them. In one, swift strike, he lunged forward, wrapping one hand around each of the girls' necks. He spun them around, slamming them against the door, their heads striking the hardwood door with sickening thuds. He tightened his grip on them, leaning in forward, the twisted smile forming across his lips again. "You both should be more discriminating in who you decide to bring home." He pressed his hands harder into their windpipes. "But I guess you won't have to worry about next time."

The girls squirmed, fighting with all their strength. Their struggles only made him press his hands in harder. "You keep that up and this won't be much fun." Chelsea passed out first, Krista shortly after. He let their bodies slide to the floor and took a quick moment to pull on his usual gloves, taking every precaution against getting caught. He wasn't interested in going to jail, nor was he interested in being put to death. He had a lot more planned for the rest of his life. Quickly, he pulled a roll of black electrical tape from his pocket and wrapped the girls' wrists and ankles with it. They started to stir as he dragged them into the kitchen. He propped them up against the refrigerator, the perfect place for a view of the entire kitchen. Bobby leaned a hip on the counter, studying the knife block, watching the girls wake up in his periphery.

He pulled a knife from the block and turned it back and forth, studying it. "How about this one?" He held it up to them, their eyes flashing wide.

"W-what are you going to do to us?" Chelsea stammered, fear smothering her words, turning them into a choked whisper.

He flipped on one of the burners on the stove, still leaning casually against the counter. "How about we play a game? I've been bored lately. And I've been having a bad..." he paused, setting the knife blade on the hot burner, "well, a bad few months." He crossed one leg, shifting his weight a little. "You see... my daughter was taken from me by her mother. Huh, look at that, you both look like her. And the woman I love, well, she doesn't want anything to do with me. But this has nothing to do with that... well, not technically."

Chelsea tried to maneuver herself into a position where she'd be able to kick him. "No one could love you. You're a monster! The devil!" she spat.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," he replied calmly, putting his foot on her abdomen, stopping her movement. Krista sat quietly, face completely pale, watching. He continued, picking up the now hot knife. "So, about that game. I'm going to let you take a shot at me and if you miss... I get to do something to you. And to be fair, you get to go first."

Chelsea stared up at him, unsure of what to do. Quickly, she decided to take her chance and wiggled down onto her back, flinging her taped legs around, trying to separate them while aiming for Bobby. She missed and her heels slapped down onto the linoleum, break one of the heels of her orange patent pumps.

"Sorry. Good effort, though," he said as he positioned himself over her. With his free hand, he ripped open her blue asymmetrical satin shirt. His pulse quickened and he sucked in a shaky breath, delighting in seeing her well-toned abs. Slowly, he slid the blade across her skin, cutting deep. The hot blade acting like a scalpel, slicing easily, as if through butter. Chelsea's blood started to pool quickly under her, bright crimson on the white linoleum. Krista quickly looked away, trying to bury her face in the floor as her roommate screamed.

This "game" continued a few more rounds, both girls receiving similar cuts to vital areas. The floor was slick with their blood, making it slippery and hard to stand. Neither girl moved and hadn't for a long time, but they weren't dead, either. Their breathing was very faint, almost imperceptible. Pulling his signature switchblade from his pocket, he quickly slit each girls' throat, finishing what he had started. He made sure to leave no trace of his having been there. When the story broke on the news, he'd send out his trademark and taunt the cops.


End file.
